Boys and Girls
by I Will Disappear
Summary: Boys and Girls verses all in one place
1. Pretty Boys

A/N: this is actually going to be a series of one-shots, probably the 'Boys and Girls verses.

She liked pretty boys, all elegant and slender, pale skin and harsh black hair like a splotch of spilt ink, and eyes just as dark or red, the shade of love with black points that spun like pin wheels in the wind.

Pretty boys with their faraway eyes and perfect lips all Sakura pink, and she likes to see them because they remind her of herself, almost soft on the pale skin not as harsh but still bold, still silent.

Those pretty boys with 'not there' attitudes of misplaced loneliness turned hate, and longing sighs soft and pleasant making her wish to feel them ghost across her skin, prickle at her senses.

And these pretty boys with no good luck, with all the luck in the world, and subtle touch to show just how much they cared, with no words like I love you, but hands that said I'd die for you.

Yeah the kind of pretty boys who knew nothing about everything, and knew everything about nothing and were like stars reflected on the sea, flickering and fading and shining bright and dull at once.

The pretty boys with the cool tones and warm murmurs all their own, the bundled feelings and give away hearts that are broke to bits, unable to be fixed up again.

The pretty boys that were like the bad boys but only not as nice with their lone existence theory that if it's only one there would be no pain, just them no one else.

The pretty boys with a bad history, with memories filled of backyard butterfly chasing, and a laughing mother somewhere with food waiting, a brother sitting reading not far off but smiling, and a father sipping tea, hiding smiles and chuckles with his drink.

She likes the pretty boys with broken hearts and not there lies and pretend white truths that aren't not true but close enough.

She likes the pretty boys with too long sleeves and just right jeans and wet ink hair against rice paper skin and pin wheel love eyes and Sakura lips.

She likes the pretty boys with distance looks and half a heart to not say the mean things, and luck that wasn't really luck but faith and hands and looks that could speak.

She likes the pretty boys with names that begin with s and end with an e, and are her friend and trade lunch because she doesn't have the heart to tell her mom she doesn't like the food because it was never sweet enough.

She likes the pretty boys with two best friends and says doesn't need more, the kind that she grew up with, the kind who loves her for who she is, even if that love was not like the love that she has.

The pretty boys who sat with her on the porch, with their best friends during summer, doing everything and nothing and living as one, with shared breath and in synch heart beats.

Those pretty boys that hold her hand the other occupied by her best friend and the walks to each other's houses only blocks away.

The pretty boys, who stopped to help her out of a tree when she was six, the one who got his best friend to make her stop crying when she hurt herself because he didn't know how.

The pretty boys like the one sitting on the floor of her living room playing video games with her best friend and munching on chips.

She likes the pretty boys that were all her own and out of reach, but very much there, and who would say she was theirs, because it was these type of pretty boys that she knew.

The kind with too light touches and almost not there whispers and pin wheel hearts and far off eyes and with names like Sasuke and Uchiha, those were the pretty boys that lived in her heart.

She liked pretty boys, all elegant and slender, pale skin and harsh black hair like a splotch of spilt ink, and eyes just as dark or red, the shade of love with black points that spun like pin wheels in the wind.

The pretty boys who were like love letter written in time long ago and drifted into acknowledgement with eras, a romance that threw time, and lived, breathed and stayed, these were the pretty boys she liked.


	2. Bright Boys

A/N : part of the Boys and Girls verses

/

She liked bright boys, all loud and solid, tan skin and sunlight yellow hair splayed like a halo, and eyes the color of the sky, or oceans deep, like those waters crashing into your soul with their depths.

Bright boys with their out there eyes and fine lips all masculine and clean, she likes to watch them move, pull into smiles and laughs and grins, the warmth over whelming and all 'swallow you whole'.

Those bright boys with 'I'm here!' attitudes and arm full of loyalty and love and acceptance, all satisfied sighs that make you breathless when those eyes and that smile turn to you, a ghost of a promise.

And these bright boys with blinding luck, all binding you to them, and loud words and warm hugs that burned you with love, words like love and hope and faith, all incased in those arms, ' I'll protect you'.

Yeah the kind of bright boys who did things wrong to make things right, but never right to be wrong and were like stars in the night sky, all bright and dazzling and there, strong but subtle when they need be.

The bright boys with the enthusiastic tones, and secretive whispers all their own, and bursting nerves and plastic hearts and shining love lights to keep you company when you're alone.

The bright boys that were like the lady killers but only not loose, with their real smiles, and pleasant talk, all about knowing you, not using you.

The bright boys with a rough past, with memories of playful dad and smiling moms, and drunken aunts with too strong hits and too large breasts, of pervert uncles who taught them like they taught their father and teachers, one writing the books, the other reading them, and smiling faces.

She likes the bright boys with pull apart hearts and lingering words like promises that were always promises even if they weren't.

She likes the bright boys with too bright shirts and cargo pants with pockets everywhere and spun gold hair against honey tanned skin and ocean eyes, and fine lips.

She likes the bright boys with out of reach looks and half the heart not to rub it in, with loyalty that tied them together for eternity and words that held your heart and attention.

She likes the bright boys with names that mean maelstrom and squall, and are one of two of her best friends and is the one who she really trades lunches with because she always forgets that her other best friend hates sweets just as much as she loves them.

She likes the bright boys with two best friends and says he loves them both so much, the kind she was brought up with, the ones who love her as her and who she loves because he is himself and no one else.

The bright boys who louguged on her porch stretched out during summer, hair lighter and skin tanner, living like the days were numbered and shared pieces of his heart to make those summers glow brighter.

Those bright boys that hold her hand and don't mind that the other is occupied as well, and leads them through bushes and shrubs and back streets to houses only some streets down.

The bright boys, who taught her how to climb out of trees and how to fall even though they were six, the one who helped her when she hurt herself even though she was older and taller.

The bright boys like the one laying on the living room rug playing video games with their best friend, chips missing his mouth but didn't notice just yet.

She likes the bright boys that were hers and so much ahead of her, but remained beside her, with words like 'what's yours is mine, and what's mine is yours', because these were the type she loved.

The kind with scorching touches and warm whispers that made you lean in, and eyes like blue jolly ranchers with names like Naruto and Uzumaki and sometimes Namikaze, the kind she knew.

She liked bright boys, all loud and solid, tan skin and sunlight yellow hair splayed like a halo, and eyes the color of the sky, or oceans deep, like those waters crashing into your soul with their depths

The bright boys who were like summer days of memories from childhood, all long honey smooth skin that slow dripped and lagged time, and warm smiles like lazy warm mornings and laughter like cool breezes, these were the bright boys she liked the best.


	3. Rowdy Boys

A/N: part of the Boys and Girls verses

/

He liked rowdy boys, all callused and strong hands, skin toasty brown, and sun soaked hair, with eyes like sapphires in the light all flashing and shining, sparking in anxiousness and pranks unplanned.

Rowdy boys with their 'bigger than life' feel and soul searing eyes, with wide grins and fox smiles, lips strong and soft all at once.

Those rowdy boys with 'in your face' attitudes that hide the intelligence and observant eyes, and warm words that make you think twice.

And these rowdy boys with all the strength and none of the anxiety, and always gentle touches and no words, with the understanding and caring, and those accepting smiles.

Yeah the kind of rowdy boys who liked to pretend to know nothing, but seemed to know everything and more, and are like foxes, all cunning and smooth, coming close to observe and wait for soft spots.

The rowdy boys with bold words and hot breath against skin, all strong arms and firm hold strong like a lions heart, the beat steady and familiar.

The rowdy boys that are like the gang boys, but stronger and smarter, all twisting muscle and speed and fighters gait, strong and subtle and peachy keen.

The rowdy boys with great childhood memories of laughing parents and slurring aunts and perverted uncles, tucked into a pocket somewhere to remember later, because new memories are being made at the moment with yells of 'there you are' and 'I'm back'

He likes the rowdy boys with muscled heart, all strong and open to hurt, taking and giving tenfold to show he cares, with empathy and the kindness not to show it.

He likes the rowdy boys with loud shirts and baggy cargo shorts and sunflower hair, blue flame eyes, firm lips, and tawny skin.

He likes the rowdy boys with welcoming eyes and lion hearts, and arms to call 'safe' and 'caring' and when they need it 'home' as well.

He liked the rowdy boys who cursed and laughed and fight and call him best friend, who swaps, swapped lunches because he doesn't like sweets and receives sour in turn, because he know that he like it the best.

He likes the rowdy boys with two best friends, who will turn and kiss your cheek when you're not looking because he knows you like it, because they were the kind he grew in backyards with.

The rowdy boys who sprawled on porches and inhaled the stress of his friends and family and breathed out summer comfort, memories entangled like their fingers.

Those rowdy boys that will hold hands with the same girl, at the same time, who pull vegetation aside, showing back ways to homes not far apart.

The rowdy boys who taught tree climbing and wrestling, who helped little girls, even thought they were older than them because he didn't know how.

The rowdy boys like the one lying next to him on that girl's rug making a mess of chips while trying to play and win at the video game on the screen.

He likes the rowdy boys that were secretly his, even though everyone knew, who wasn't afraid to hold his hand, and opened his arms when a hug and comfort were needed.

The kind with steady heart beats and strong hands, who breathed comforting words into his ear or neck or hair, with burning eyes and names like Naruto, those rowdy boys were his own.

He liked rowdy boys, all callused and strong hands, skin toasty brown, and sun soaked hair, with eyes like sapphires in the light all flashing and shining, sparking in anxiousness and pranks unplanned.

The rowdy boys who were like a warm bed in winter, all soft, pulling away the cold and seeping into your skin and bones, familiar and lulling, with soft warm sun hair, and heavy warm breath puffed against skin, these were the rowdy boys that he liked.


	4. Brooding Boys

A/N: part of the 'Boys and Girls' verses.

He liked brooding boys, all long fingers and piano hands, skin transparent white, and pitch black hair, with eyes like gunmetal in the light all flashing and cold, glinting in wait and remorse unknown.

Brooding boys with their indifferent air and tell all eyes, with frowning pink lips that set into a firm line that spins a story of their sadness and longing, wanting and pink and soft.

Those brooding boys with 'cool' attitudes that hide their shy nature and hesitant steps, and quite murmurs that make you listen more carefully, not missing a word.

And these brooding boys with all the potential and none of the hope, and always touching because if words leave those pink lips, tears will trail after, and those tell a whole story on their own.

Yeah the kind of brooding boys who liked to think about everything and nothing all at once, and are like little gold fish in a bowl, reaching the glass and flashing away when a finger is placed in front of them.

The brooding boys with aloof words and warm puffs of air against a neck or hand or ear, all nerves shaking as their weak hopeful heart's tremble like lost baby birds.

The brooding boys that were like the new meat but never showed it even when they were the new meat, all smooth moves and confident walk and condescending tones.

The brooding boys with happy memories of summer and family and friends, of laughing and playing and being young, with a mother and father and brother who cared and loved, waiting for a safe return, of calls 'I'm home!' and replies 'welcome back'.

He likes the brooding boys with paper hearts and fragile whispers of the truth, and harsh shouts of lies that dance behind his eyes, but not out of his mouth.

He likes the brooding boys with dark blue shirts and fitted jeans that ride to low and night time hair, stars for eyes, pink lips of hope and see through skin.

He likes the brooding boys with stay away looks and rabbit hearts, and loyalty and faith that was built in backyards when they first meet, and eyes that said 'love me, stay with me'

He liked the brooding boys who gave call of 'dobe' and replies of 'teme!' and are his best friend and share lunches because he knows that he doesn't like sweets and always packs sour foods and candy just for him and he knows.

He likes the brooding boys with two best friends, who says I only want you, the kind he was raise with, who loves him because he is himself and knows it, and who are loved in return for the same reason too.

The brooding boys who sat on porches in the summer heat with their friends, doing what they did best and living, melting into one whole being and running wild, heart's pumping and throbbing with summer.

Those brooding boys that will hold a girls hand with you, and walk the few streets and short cut alleyways to houses so close.

The brooding boys, who always looked up at the trees, because he didn't know how to climb them, who ran to him in fear when he couldn't help a new neighbor who hurt herself and didn't know what to do.

The brooding boys like the one sitting next to him in their best friends living room playing video games and eating chips.

He likes the brooding boys that were all his and in his grasp, who said 'I'm yours, but your mine too', who held his hand even when it was just them, because it was these types of brooding boys he knew.

The kind with trembling touches, who breathed words on his skin, with wide eyes struck from gunmetal and star light, with a name like Sasuke, those were the brooding boys that lived in his heart.

He liked brooding boys, all long fingers and piano hands, skin transparent white, and pitch black hair, with eyes like gunmetal in the light all flashing and cold, glinting in wait and remorse unknown.

The brooding boys who were like summer nights, all dark and sparks, with hearts like paper fans and curiosity like gold fish in a bowl, with heavy breaths, firework eyes and kiss me lips, who were like those precious nights, all familiar and safe and cool to the touch, these were the brooding boys that he liked.


End file.
